


The Beauty in the Beast

by Ichaya1701



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Orignal Characters - Freeform, Viktor is kinda like Bruce Wayne but not really, Will add tags as the story progresses, futuristic but only by 50 years or so, modern beauty and the beast, older mila
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:50:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ichaya1701/pseuds/Ichaya1701
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov runs Nikiforov Industries - the billion dollar conglomerate that essentially rules the world. When he finds a woman with a remarkable talent for anything technical he knows he must have her and chains her by way of contract, crushing her inventor spirit. However, when her brother offers his services in exchange for her freedom, it unleashes a chain of events no one could have foreseen.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the show Yuri On Ice and by the 2017 Beauty and the Beast to write this. I'm having a lot of fun writing it. I can't promise it'll be good but I hope you find it interesting!

Nikiforov Industries was a force beyond measure. Developing the latest and greatest technology of a generation, its influence touched not only basic technology such as gaming systems and music devices, but the world of science and medicine as well. Providing the funds to research diseases and medical conditions that were once thought incurable, Nikiforov Industries was directly responsible for saving over a quarter of the world's population in fifteen short years. Exploration of space was at an all-time high with people being sent to nearby planets for exploration and to possibly establish a permanent settlement. Programs were established to encourage children of all kind to try their hand at S.T.E.M. subjects and scholarships for said subjects were generously handed out every year. Donations to various charities were year-round and constant.

 

For as much good as Nikiforov Industries did, it paled in comparison to the woman behind it all: Vitaly Nikiforov. Her name was considered masculine in her home country, something that she sought pride in from a young age. She loved the confused faces of her peers when she stated her name. She reveled in their stares when she would dress feminine and not blink twice to get dirty chasing bugs or working on cars. She would dress in outfits deemed worthy of being only for "males" and didn't give a second thought to it. Her hair had been waist-length, shaved bald and everything in between. She never did any of this on purpose, for the most part that is. She was fourteen when she truly realized the gender roles established in her life. Ever since then she decided to do everything in her power to break these roles, defy them. 

 

Something she passed on to her son.

 

Her sweet Viktor was something she cherished above all the things in her life, and she had many things. She had a large mansion surrounded by hills and a forest, not terribly far from the city. She had fabulous cars, some very new and some very, very old. She had art from throughout history in her house and a wardrobe that most would consider a work of art itself. Despite these things she refused to forget her humble beginnings and lived in fear that her son may suffer under the hand of wealth and privilege. 

 

Her son was only seven yet his beautiful platinum hair fell almost to his waist. She would constantly find herself running her fingers through her son's unusual hair, taking in the softness of it. No matter how busy and stressful her day at been she'd always find the time to sit on her child's bed and brush his hair, letting him ramble about his day to her. His unnaturally blue eyes would light up as he talked about what he learned from his tutor, Mrs. Babicheva, and of the animals he saw on the grounds. He suddenly stopped talking when he mentioned Mrs. Babicheva had insisted he draw a picture, something his mother noticed, causing her to pause mid-braid on his hair. 

 

"What’s wrong, lyubov moy?" She asked, curiously peering over his shoulder to look at him.

 

"It's not very good," Viktor mumbled, shifting uncomfortably under her hands. 

 

Vitality finished the long plait, proudly running a finger along the twists of the braid. Finally, she gently turned Viktor around, placing a finger under his chin so he'd look her in the eyes.

 

"Viktor," she breathed. Viktor sighed softly when she said his name. His mother didn't simply say his name, she lived in it. Saying his name out loud always sounded like she released a piece of her soul, encasing it in love in a way only a mother can. "You are a beautiful boy. You are kind, and excited by everything. You're very smart and have a compassion about others that I pray never goes away." She smiled. "You're also terribly forget and not the best artist." She laughed as her son looked up at her, face full of shock. 

 

"Mom!"

 

"I'm sorry, lyubov moy, but it's true," she shrugged. "No one can be good at everything. We weren't meant to be perfect. How boring would life be if everyone was great at everything?" Viktor's face was stuck between wanting to pout and wanting to laugh. His mother gave another laugh as she patted his cheek. "Just because you don't think something is good, doesn't mean someone else agrees." Seeing the confusion on his face she asked for him to show her the drawing. 

 

"No!" He whined. "You just said it wasn't any good!" Vitality raised her eyebrows. 

 

"I never said it wasn't good, lyubov moy. I just said you can't draw." The boy stared at her for a few moments before jumping off the bed to his desk. He ruffled through some papers before finding what he was looking for. He shyly shuffled back to his bed, slowly handing the paper out to his mother. She carefully took the image, not looking away from her son’s gorgeous blue orbs. When she finally looked down her breath caught in her throatt. "Oh, Vitya...."

 

The drawing was done with a combination of crayon and watercolor. It was supposed to be a face, that much she was sure of. The skin was done in blues and greens, some pink and red on the cheeks, just under the brown, gold eyes. The black and white hair bled into the background, making the image dark and beautiful. 

 

It wasn't good by any standards, even for a child. Vitality looked up at her son, eyes shining as she gave him a genuine smile. "It is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!"

Viktor exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding in. He needed his mother's approval, she was the only consistent person in his life besides the house staff. He loved the way her eyes had lit up when she saw the picture, even more so knowing he was the one that did it. "Really?"

"Yes! It's so expressive and your color choice is gorgeous, not to mention you using two different mediums-"

"Mom." He interrupted her. She grinned sheepishly at him, aware that she had started using words his seven year old mind didn't fully comprehend. She never talked to Viktor like a child, even as a baby she abstained from talking gibberish and making silly voices. She didn't see the point in talking to her son like he was incompetent, it would only harm him in the long run. 

"Sorry, Vitya. What I'm trying to say is I think it's beautiful."

"B-but it's not good," Viktor stammered. His mother must be insane. His house was full of truly beautiful images of nature and people, created in styles he didn't understand. 

"Just because you think something isn't good, doesn't mean I agree," his mother simply stated. "So what if it's not technically good? It's art! It's meant to be looked at from all kinds of different eyes with different opinions. Your opinion may be that it's not good, but my opinion says it is." She smiled warmly at his slightly confused face and hugged him. "Someday I hope you understand." 

Viktor inhaled his mother's scent. She only ever lightly used perfume or cologne, depending on what kind of mood she was in that day. Her natural smell is what drew Viktor in, a hint of roses and something sweet. He hoped to never let go when a sudden thought popped into his head. 

"Mom?"

"Yeah?" 

Viktor pulled back enough to look her in the eye.

"If everyone is bad at something, what are you bad at?" Vitality's eyes widen with shocked before closing in laughter.

"Oh, Vitya! I'm bad at many things."

"Like what?" He asked, suddenly very curious. His mother was like a god to him, perfect in every way. She never failed to charm a room or be late to anything. She could be silly with him and then serious at the drop of a hat. 

His mother put a finger to her chin, thinking aloud. "Well......I'm a terrible cook. That's why we have Mr. Gus, otherwise we'd starve!" She declared as she tickled Viktor's stomach, making him grin. "I'm not good at keeping things tidy, I get lazy about putting things away. I'm not artistic, like you," she shot him a teasing grin as he pouted. "Oh! And I can't dance!" She said almost proudly.

"What?" Viktor asked, confused. He's seen his mother dance at numerous parties, to varies styles. He couldn't believe that's he thought she was bad.

"I may be technically good, Vitya, but I cannot...How do I say this? I cannot move as if the music was in me, waiting to be released. Just like I may be able to play the piano, but I cannot make music. Understand?"

"I think so," Viktor said, a crease between his eyebrows. Vitality sighed

"I promise it'll make sense someday. For now, however, I think it's time for bed!" Vitality laughed as Viktor wailed and dramatically threw himself on his bed. Her laugh died when there was a knock on the door. "Come in!"

A middle-aged man stuck his head in, although normally stoic to begin with, there was a hint of hardness that caught Vitality's attention immediately. "What is it, Yakov?" 

"Mr. Plisetsky is here to see you," Yakov said, trying hard to keep the loathing out of his voice. 

 

Viktor looked at his mother. Her face was unreadable but he saw something flash in her eyes, something unpleasant. 

 

"Mom, who is it?" He asked, uncertain. She turned and flashed a smile at him, the kind of smile he sees her give nosy reporters and other bothersome people when she's trying to be polite. A smile Viktor hates. 

 

"No one, lyubov moya," she said in a steady voice, smile not reaching her eyes. "Get ready for bed and I'll come in to read you a story, okay?"

 

Viktor hesitated before agreeing. He didn't like to see his mother like this. Invisibly shaken by something he didn't understand. 

 

Vitality got up and followed Yakov out the door. Viktor put on his pajamas and crawled into bed, staring out his window. He mindlessly fondled his pink nightgown, thinking how great it would be to have a poodle like the one on his dress when he heard voices from downstairs. He halted in his bed, torn between listening to his mother and his growing curiosity. 

 

Curiosity won as he slipped on some socks and quietly made his way to the stairs. Walking down the banister to the foyer he saw one of the large doors to the sitting room was left slightly open. He could hear his mother's voice coming from the room, agitated yet gentle. When he heard the other, unfamiliar voice he froze at the base of the banister, a shiver running up his spine. The voice was hallowed, as if devoid of any emotion and cold. Viktor couldn't believe a voice like that existed. He came to his senses when he heard his mother speak. 

 

"Is this why you came here, Anfisa? To criticize my parenting skills?" 

 

Heart beating faster, Viktor slowly crept his way to the door, daring to peek through the opening to the scene inside. His mother was causally leaning against a desk, scotch swirling in one hand. She her tension clearly stated that she was displeased, but otherwise her face gave nothing away. A man sat on a chair across from her, legs crossed as he took a sip of red wine. Viktor's vision was cut off by the door, only being able to see the man's shoe dangling in the air. 

"Of course not, Vitality. I'm merely commenting on the fact that the, uh, boy is isolated here." Viktor frowned. He did not like the way this stranger called him ‘boy’. "He needs to socialize and be with others his age."

"He does socialize with others his age," Vitality responded, a little too defensively. 

The stranger scoffed. "Playing with the help's children hardly counts as socializing."

"Don't call them that," Vitality snapped in a sharp voice. The man called Anfisa took notice of this.

"Getting chummy with your servants I see? Some things never changed, do they not, Vitty?"

"Don't call me that." There was no gentleness in her voice now. "They are my servers, not my servants. They're people with feelings, Annie, something you never seemed to understand."

Viktor could feel the man tense at the nickname. 

"Now I will ask again. Why are you here? I haven't seen you in ten years and suddenly you show up to the house I share with my son, bringing your old ignorance with you."

It was silent as they stared at each other, Viktor not daring even to breath. 

"Fine." Viktor heard the glass being put on the side table and watched the man stand up. Viktor had to stifle a gasp as he saw the man fully for the first time.

Anfisa was a tall but slight man. His mother was easily twice his size and taller still. While their physique was drastically different their features were alarmingly similar. Both had pure blonde hair, Anfisa's styled like a typical business man while Vitality's was shaved short on the side, the top slicked back into a V. Their green eyes stared down at each other as they waited to see who would falter first. 

Anfisa broke the silence.

"I came to see if you've changed your mind after all these years."

If Vitality was surprised by this she didn't show it. Instead she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "My answer remains the same," she said in an even tone.

Anfisa looked as if he'd been expecting this. "Come on, Vitty. Times have changed. The world has changed. Don't you realize what a profit this will be? Think of your son-"

"I am thinking of my son," she said coldly. "Every day I think of the world I want Viktor to grow up in. A world riddled by threats of war isn't one of them." 

The tension was thick as they glared at each other. The man smoothed his tie. 

"That's your final answer?"

"Yes, Annie, it is," she said softly. They stared at each other, a history flashing before their eyes. 

The man turned, finished his wine and walked towards the door. Viktor quickly turned and ran past the banister, hiding in the cupboard. He could hear the individuals discuss something more before the front door shut with a deafening slam.

Silence. 

A knock on the cupboard door made Viktor jump. Slowly, he opened it a fraction, glancing up to look at his mother.

"Vitya. I didn't want you to hear all that." Vitality looked tired, more tired than Viktor had ever seen her. He knew his mother wasn't exactly young, she'd opted to have him when she was in her forties, but her vibrant spirit always made her seem classically young. Now, however...

"I'm sorry," Viktor whispered, tears in his eyes. He couldn't figure out why he was crying. Perhaps because he disobeyed his mother, more likely it was because the man had shaken him to his core without even knowing Viktor was there. The way the man’s mere presence made his mother react terrified Viktor beyond his understanding. 

Vitality said nothing as she wrapped her son in her embrace, hugging him until his sobs slowed to hiccups. 

"I'm not angry, lyubov moya," she whispered in his ear. "I want you to calm down, da? Let's get some hot chocolate." Her knees creaked as she picked her son up, staggering slightly at his weight. She knew Victor would grow up to be broad like her, so while she could still carry her in her arms she would. 

 

She placed Viktor on the counter as she went to boil the water. Viktor watched her as she collected the mugs and marshmallows, smiling weakly as she stuffed some in her mouth. He imitated her and she was glad to see a smile blossom on his face. 

 

"There's my Vitya," she said. The kettle started to whistle, while her back was turned Viktor found the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind since he peaked through the door.

 

"Who was that man?" His mother sighed as she turned around, fresh mugs of hot chocolate in hand. She set one down next to Viktor, ordering him to blow on it. She stuck another marshmallow in her mouth, taking her time chewing so she could think.

 

"That was Anfisa," she said slowly, watching Viktor's expressions. "He is a business man, interested in partnering with the family business to create new...things." Viktor didn't like the way she said ‘things’.

 

"What kind of things?" He asked nervously.

 

"Bad things," his mother replied, taking a sip of hot chocolate. "Damn," she growled, surprised at her own language. "I can't even make hot chocolate right!"

 

Viktor stared at his mother. He knew she was stressed and hiding something, something she didn't want her to know. His curiosity was burning with desire, but instead he simply raised his own mug and proceeded to chug. Vitality stared at him in surprise. 

 

"Viktor!" 

 

"You're right, that was bad," Viktor smiles through a chocolate mustache. "But I think it was the best hot chocolate ever!"

 

Vitality gaped at her son, unsure of what to do or what to say. "Oh, Vitya!" She wailed, arm thrown over her eyes as she threw herself on the counter, egging Viktor's laughter on. "You wound me with your honestly!" They both couldn't contain their laughter as Viktor imitated his mother, throwing himself next to her. When their laughter finally stopped, Viktor turned to his mom to find her staring at him, running her fingers through his hair, slowly unraveling part of the braid. 

"Just because you don't think your hot chocolate is any good, doesn't mean I agree," Vitya said softly. He watched as his mother's eyes filled with tears. She stood up and pulled him into a hug. "I love you, mom," Viktor said, slightly muffled in his mother's embrace.

"And I love you, lyubov moya," she whispered through tears.


	2. Always Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward 20 years to Viktor, now in charge of the family business. His small moment of daily joy is interrupted by an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to post so soon but I was feeling inspired. I'll try to post every Tuesday. This chapter is shorter than the prologue since it's still setting some thing up. I hope you enjoy!

Viktor Nikiforov thought about that night for a long time. Hell, he obsessed over it for the next twenty years. Sighing, he stood up from his desk to look out over the city's skyline.  
  
His office was on the 96th floor, more accurately his office _was_ the 96th floor. The entire wall behind his rather impressive desk was a large window, big enough for him to view the entire city like the Hunchback from his Bell Tower.  
  
Viktor stared out as he watched people begin their day. He saw kids on their way to school, holding their parents’ hands as they crossed the street. Adults old and young rushing to not be late to work and teenagers lazily making their way to their educational prison. He'd seen some of the mom and pop shops by his building beginning their day almost as early as he did, smiling friendly at him as though they've known him all their lives. Now he watched as they interacted with the neighborhood below, the unsung heroes that kept the community together.  
  
He knew the baker began prepping at 5am, the flower shop would begin opening at 7, and by 7:15 the little neighborhood below would come to life. It was more like a marketplace than anything, with all the locals knowing the ins and outs of each other's lives. The city, once a big-little-town was rapidly growing; more and more modern buildings appearing with Nikiforov Tower being the first and most impressive.  
  
He watched as people bought baked goods, stopped for coffee and smelled the flowers. He'd been watching the crowds long enough to memorize some of the people's routes. He knew the woman with her triplets would go by around 6:45 to her antique/art shop. He knew some bikers would roll by around 6:50, always stopping to wave and the little old woman who was opening her flower shop. And at 7am...  
  
His stomach flopped as he saw his dark haired, 7am treat walk by. He was always the first in the flower shop, talking warmly to the owner and leaving with three flowers, each one different each day. He next went to the coffee shop, laughing with the barista as he bid farewell, trying to balance four coffees and the flowers, stumbling adorably at the difficulty. Next, he went to the baker's and always left with a small box the baker himself provided for the dark haired man to carry the coffee, the flowers and whatever baked good he bought. Every single morning he made an effort to talk to everyone in the little neighborhood market, no matter how late it got. He ended his route with going into the antique/art shop, only ever leaving with two coffees and a small bag from the baker's. Viktor assumed the man gave the contents of his morning route to the woman of the shop. He sighed as he imagined the kind and obviously thoughtful man was probably married to the antique owner, the father of those kids...  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz on his intercom. Groaning, he pressed speaker button, unwilling to look away from the antique shop quite just yet.  
  
"Yes, Emil?"  
  
"Mr. Nikiforov, it's Ms. Babicheva," his assistant said. Viktor paused. This could either be an amusing conversation or a downright frustrating one.  
  
"What's it about?"  
  
"She's here to talk about Yuri." Viktor internally groaned. It was going to be a frustrating conversation.  
  
"Send her in." Viktor wondered what his cousin could have possibly done this time. He stared out the window for a few seconds more, hoping to see the man exit the shop. His patience was rewarded as he saw the man leave, rushing to the city bus that pulled up. His office was too high up to ever get a clear image of the people below, he would recognize the tops of people's heads more than their faces if he were ever to actually meet them. He was smiling as he imagedwhat the dark hair man might look like when the ding of the elevator startled him. He turned as he heard the elevator door open. "Hello, Mila! It's been, what? Two whole days since I've seen you about Yuri!"  
  
Mila rolled her eyes but he could tell she was suppressing a small smile. "Viktor, you know why I'm here. I can't believe you missed Yuri's concert last night!"  
  
"Concert?" Viktor asked, confused. Mila put her hand to her head, all playfulness gone.  
  
"I swear, Vitya, if your head wasn't attached to your shoulders you'd lose that too! Yuri's piano concert? The one he's been practicing months for. You promised you'd have a free evening to go."  
  
Viktor's mouth opened slightly at the realization of his mistake. He ran his fingers threw his short hair, pushing his bangs out of his eye. "Shit," was all he could say as he sat in his chair, defeated.  
  
As angry as Mila was, she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Viktor. He was busy day in and day out with meetings for his company, endless phone calls, constantly going over paperwork and some days flying around the world to oversee programs and projects himself. All that in addition to his forgetfulness only begged for a big slip up like this to happen. The memory of Yuri's face has he tried to hide his disappointment however, brought the venom back to her mouth.  
  
"Yeah. _Shit_ ," she spat, feeling a twinge of guilt as Viktor flinched in his chair. Behind the large desk and oversized chair, he looked like a small child. Mila took a deep breath as she tried to figure out what to say. "You messed up pretty big and you need to fix it," she said slowly. "Don't throw a pity party for yourself. You need to make it up to Yuri one way or another. He was really disappointed, Viktor."  
  
Viktor stared at his hands while she spoke. He looked up to meet her gaze. "You're right. I know you're right. Dammit, Mila, why are you ALWAYS right?"  
  
Mila couldn't help but grin. "After 25 years of friendship it's about time you finally remember that."  
  
Now it was Viktor's turn to roll his eyes. "Can we really say it's been 25 years? I mean, I was two when you were born and we didn't really start playing you were three so -"  
  
"Shut up," Mila said with a chuckle. Her smile stayed as her tone became a little more serious. "Vitya, you hired me to be Yuri's private tutor. I help him with his schoolwork day in and day out. I drive him to piano lessons and make sure he eats. You basically hired me as a nanny, Vitya, and I think it's time we talk about Yuri going to an actual school." As she expected, Viktor tensed up.  
  
"No," he said evenly, his eyes not meeting hers.  
  
"You know he needs to be with kids his other age! He needs to be exposed to other people's way of life and thinking. Keeping him isolated in your mansion outside the city or locked in the penthouse isn't doing him any good. I know for a fact you hated it, so why would Yuri feel any different?"  
  
Viktor's eyes were cold as he stood up and looked at her. His demeanor changed and she knew she wasn't talking to Vitya, her lifelong friend, the boy with the long hair who loved everyone and everything. She was dealing with Viktor Nikiforov, the business man, the Ice King as some called him. With his expressionless face and eerily calm demeanor, he stared at her.  
  
"Yuri will have an excellent education at the hand of a private tutor. By not going to school, he won't be distracted by others and he can focus on learning the family business. He'll have plenty of time to socialize in college." He said this in the tone of an overly rehearsed actor. There was no emotion to it, no proof that he actually believed it.   
  
"What? Like you did?" Mila responded, trying hard to keep her voice just as even but failing. "Viktor Nikiforov, never taking the time to be with others as he was always studying, always isolating himself so he wouldn't have to build relationships. Viktor Nikiforov, charming others to get what he wanted in business deals but never truly opening himself up to anyone. You lock yourself in one tower or another, hiding. Ever since Vitality-"  
  
"Don't," was all Viktor said, his voice dangerous now. Mila's voice caught in her throat: she knew she'd over stepped. If Viktor was angry he didn't show it, but Mila could feel the tension as he walked around the desk to face her. "If this _job_ is too much for you, then maybe Yuri needs another tutor."  
  
Mila looked at him, the hurt plain in her eyes. Viktor flinched internally but kept his mask steady. "You _know_ I love Yuri too much to leave him. He's had enough of that in his life."  
  
"Then maybe you should get back to him and I'll pretend this conversation never happened."  
  
Mila gave him a look of disgust before turning towards the elevator. When the doors opened, she stepped in and turned to face him. "You sound _excatly_ like Anfisa when you talk like that, _Mr. Nikiforov_ ," she said with an much spite as she could muster. The last thing she saw before the doors shut was Viktor's mask cracking, his eyes full of pain at the one thing she knew she could throw at him to get under his skin.  
  
Viktor stayed rooted where he was as he heard the elevator go down. He exhaled and took a deep breath staring out the window once more without really looking at anything. His gaze automatically went to the antique shop, knowing the dark haired man was long gone but still hoping, longing….

Had Mila been anyone else, he would've destroyed them. He would've found a way to make their lives miserable, never satisfied enough at their suffering.  
  
_What does she know?_ He thought bitterly. _She doesn’t know what my life is like, all she does is play teacher. She doesn’t have the fate of millions of people riding on her shoulders every day. The only one she has to worry about is herself._

He refused to believe Mila's words even though he knew deep down she was right, because Mila had an annoying habit of always being right.

_Make one mistake and it’s the end of the world._  
  
He shivered despite the warm business suit around him; there was more truth in that thought than he’d like to admit. Hugging himself, he thought once more about the night that marked the beginning of a new era of his life when his thoughts were once again interrupted by the buzz on the intercom. Glad for the distraction, he composed himself once more and answered.  
  
"Yes, Emil?"  
  
"It's Mrs. Sivatori, Mr. Nikiforov." Viktor quickly pulled the receiver to his ear.  
  
"Patch her through." He waited in agonizing silence when he heard a familiar voice.  
  
"Mr. Nikiforov."   
  
"Mrs. Sivatori."  
  
"We found her."

_At last._

A rush of excitement flooded Viktor as he worked to keep his voice controlled.  
  
"Bring her in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Mila a little older so she and Viktor could be closer, which lets Mila get away with her honestly. Don't worry! The entire story isn't just from Viktor's pov. Yuuri will be up really soon :D


	3. Good Morning, Yuuri!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri begins his day with a pleasant routine and a shocking discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the Kudos! I can't believe people are actually reading this. I appreciate everyone taking the time to look this over. Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors!

The alarm screeched through the early morning, causing Yuuri to jump, nearly knocking over his canvas. Settling his work on its easel, he rushed to shut the alarm off.  
  
_I can't believe it's already 6_ , he thought, stretching as he looked out the window.  
The sunlight was barely creeping over the low hills on the horizon, touching the not-so-small town, nudging it gently to wake up. The sight would have been beautiful, except for-  
  
"Damn, I hate that building," Yuuri muttered. He was starting at the largest building in town, its ugly head stretching higher than all the others. Yuuri had watched the city slowly change since he and his sister moved here some time ago. While it kept its quaint small town feel, the influx of modern stores and corporations were slowly taking over, spreading out into the beautiful land around it. Towers of all sorts were starting to go up, and while it brought new business and breathed life into the otherwise dying town, Yuuri couldn't help but feel sad at the amount of change occurring in such a short time. Sighing, Yuuri sat on the windowsill, starting at the black dragon of a building. "Who needs a building that big anyways?"  
  
"Still hooked up on Nikiforov Tower I see?" The voice of his sister startled him. He turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, cigarette in her hand. She only smoked when she was working on an invention, the evidence of such taking place in the bags under her eyes, messy hair, slept in clothes and the tired smirk on her face. "You need to let it go, baby bro. It's been there for what? Six months already?"  
  
"I know," Yuuri yawned, rubbing his eyes. Mari loved the way her brother still rubbed both eyes with his fists, like a toddler too irritated to understand that they were tired. He looked up to her and grinned. "How's your latest creation coming along?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing," she said, gesturing to the back of canvas in the middle of the room.  
  
Yuuri felt warmth spread onto his cheeks. He never liked sharing his work with anyone, even his sister. But Mari had always been willing to share her inventions with him, no matter how silly or insignificant she thought they were.  
  
Slowly, Yuuri stepped down from windowsill, walking to the canvas to carefully turn it around. When the canvas was facing her, Mari let out a tiny gasp and dropped the butt of her cigarette, cursing as she stomped her foot to extinguish it.  
  
Her brother had created yet another masterpiece. This one being a face but painted in a variety of colors rather than a normal skin tone. The skin was in warm colors, mainly various shades of yellow and red. The eyes were a shocking blue, a beautiful contrast to the skin. The hair was white with some greens and purples thrown in, blending nicely into the background.  
  
"Oh, _Yuuri_ ," Mari breathed. Her brother looked away, abashed.  
  
"It's-it's not quite finished y-yet," he stammered. "The shading is off and I'm having a terrible time getting the eyes right and-"  
  
"Knock if off," Mari said firmly. Yuuri's blush deepened. "Stop being so critical of yourself," Mari said, exasperated. She knew her words were relatively useless but she kept speaking them anyways. "You're good Yuuri, really, _really_ good. I just wish you'd be willing to show more people your work. I'm sure you could have an art exhibit in town if you really wanted."  
  
"No!" Yuuri exclaimed, a little too loudly. If Mari took offense to this she didn't show it. She lit another cigarette, surveying her brother as she exhaled.  
  
"At least you finally let the Nishigori's start selling your work," Mari said evenly, a small smile of pride on her lips. "Your work deserves to be seen, it's too beautiful to be kept to yourself." Taking another drag she surveyed her brother. "Besides, the fact that all the paintings you gave them sold within a week should tell you something."  
  
Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck, a small smile blooming amongst the flush. "Thanks, Mari; but seeing as they were mostly bought from people in the neighborhood I think it was more because they knew who I was-"  
  
"Stop it," Mari cut him off. Yuuri froze and looked at her. She sighed, walking over to her brother to give him a hug. She felt only the smallest amount of tension before he relaxed into the hug, it was so quick and subtle that Mari only recognized it after a lifetime of hugs. "When will you stop selling yourself short? I can't wait for the day you finally see yourself as others see you." She gave him a final squeeze before letting go. As she walked out the door, Yuuri called to her:  
  
"What about your creation?"  
  
Mari turned around in the doorframe. "I'll show it to you when you get home."  
  
"No fair!" Yuuri whined as sister flashed him a wicked grin. "I showed you my work!"  
  
"And I'll gladly show you _my_ work when you get home. Which, by the way, if you don't get going you'll be late to your actual work."  
  
Yuuri let out a yelp as he saw the time. Mari gave him an amused laugh before retreating to her workspace in the basement. Fumbling to change out of his painting clothes, Yuuri watched as the sun rose a little higher in the sky.  
  
He couldn't help but let his breath be taken away.  
  
******  
  
Yuuri's morning route never really differed. He was out the door by 6:40, pausing to appreciate the nature before him.  


Yuuri and Mari had bought a small cottage outside of the city, deciding it would be better to separate themselves from the hustle and bustle of town since they often needed solidarity and quiet to focus on their arts.  
  
The view right out their front door was spectacular. Luscious, green hills rolled in towards town and a beautiful forest slightly surround them; starting from both sides of the cottage, it formed a horseshoe as it connected in the back.  
  
They had more neighbors the closer they got to town, but for the most part they were secluded, something Yuuri was grateful for since being around so many people all the times wreaked havoc on his nerves.  
  
Their front yard was full fruits and vegetables Yuuri grew in their garden, along with very impressive rose bushes. Yuuri inhaled the bud of a rose still in the process of blooming. He couldn't wait for the aroma of roses to encase the house when they finally came into bloom.  
  
He looked off to the side and noticed a native plant had finally blossomed, glimmering with the fresh morning dew. Smiling, he took some gardening shears and plucked a small, yellow flower from its bush. He put it in the breast pocket of his blazer, adjusting it so the bright yellow stuck out against the dark blue.  
  
He happened to glance at his watch and blanched at the time. He started running down the dirt road that lead to town, silently cursing himself for getting lost in his daydreaming state.  
  
It look less than ten minutes for him to reach the outskirts of the city, another five for him to find himself in the familiar neighborhood market. 'Market' didn't seem like the right word, but he wasn't sure how else to describe the way the people of the mom and pop shops interacted with each other, or the way everyone who lived in the city always managed to find their way to that neighborhood, comfortable in the familiarity of knowing everyone and everything going on there.  
  
Owners of various stores and customers alike greeted him as he went by, full of energy so early in the day. Yuuri gave each of them a polite hello as he made his way around the crowd, unaware of how graceful his body moved to avoid other people. He made his way into the flower shop where a small, rather old woman beamed at him from behind the counter.  
  
"Right on time, as usual," she commented in her beautiful, accented voice; eyes shining brightly behind rather large glasses.  
  
"Good morning, Mrs. Altin," he greeted. "It's such a beautiful morning!"  
  
"Yes, it is," she agreed, her smile suddenly turning downwards. "Though it won't be until well past noon before the sun's light begins to even reach _some_ of my shop, what with that building in the way."  
  
Yuuri didn't even have to ask which building she was referring to. From any point in the city you could see Nikiforov Tower, and at any point in the day some part of the city was shrouded in its shadow.  
  
Trying to lift her spirits, he smiled.  
"I wouldn't worry too much. Your flowers are thriving, beautiful as ever even without the morning sun."  
  
She stared at him for a moment before letting herself chuckled softly.  
  
"Oh, _Yuuri_! You always know how to make an old woman feel better." She went around the counter and handed him tree flowers, each one a different color. "Here, I'm sure you know what to do with these. _No!_ Don't! I won't accept it!"  
  
Yuuri had started pulling out his wallet from his pocket.  
  
"Mrs. Altin-!"  
  
"Yuuri, we go through this every single morning. I wouldn't even have this shop if it wasn't for you! If I've told you once, I've told you a million times that your money isn't good here."  
  
Yuuri looked torn for a moment, a light blush dancing on his face, before he grinned. Taking some cash out of his wallet he put it in the tip jar before the old woman could open her mouth to protest.  
  
"And I've told _you_ a million times that it wasn't anything special. I have to go, but have a good rest of your day!" He slid out of the door, flowers in his hand as Mrs. Altin shook her head with a smile.  
  
"Yuuri, you're not one in a million, you're once in a lifetime," she said to herself, watching the young man greet everyone as they smiled and waved at him.  
  
Outside, Yuuri continued his trek to the nearby coffee house, jumping on a lamppost when a rather large gang of teenagers pushed their way through the crowd, grumbling about being late. He swung around the lamp post a few times, singing "Singing in the Rain" to himself. He stopped when he noticed some people watching him, whispering. Blushing profoundly, he jumped down and made his way to the coffee house, well aware that while the people of the city were nice to him, they thought him odd.  
  
Thankfully, the line in the coffee house wasn't too long. It was a cozy little place, with a stair case that lead to an upper level that held couches and board games. He smiled when the barista greeted him.  
  
"Let me guess: four coffees, three black and one with enough cream and sugar to make your teeth fall out."  
  
Yuuri giggled and nodded. "Am I that predictable, Sara?"  
  
"Pretty much," she replied, handing him the four coffees in a carrier tray. "Try not to spill them."  
  
"I can only try not to," he responded. "Good luck on your finals by the way! Before I forget...." His hand reached in his pocket and pulled out an enormous stack of flash cards, color coordinated and bound by a rubber band. "The blue ones are for your Japanese finals, little notes and tricks to help you remember the grammar. The red is for Calculus, if they get too confused just let me know, my handwriting can become sloppy. The yellow-"  
  
"Oh, _Yuuri_!" Sara wailed as she threw herself across the counter, hugging Yuuri as he tried his best to hold onto the tray of hot coffees. "I can't believe you did this for me! You've already done so much with tutoring me in my classes three times a week!"  
  
The pink on Yuuri's face was back again as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "It's-it's nothing, Sara. You're a very smart person: you had the capability in you, you just needed a little help."  
  
Sara's face fell and she let him out of her embrace. Yuuri began to worry he said the wrong thing when another dazzling smile came out on the young Italian's face.  


"You're such an amazing person, Yuuri! The coffees are on me."  
  
"What! No!"  
  
" _Yuuri_." She gave him a look that clearly stated he wasn't going to win. He sheepishly stuck a generous tip in the tip jar and left before Sara could say anything.  
  
_How can anyone who constantly sees the good in others be so oblivious to the good in themselves?_ She wondered not for the first time.  
  
Yuuri couldn't help but glance up at Nikiforov Tower when he walked out the door. He glared up at to the top floor, wondering, yet again, what kind of person needed a building that large.  
  
He knew Nikiforov Industries was a massive conglomerate, once having been known for its immense generosity and positive impact on mankind. While on paper that generosity still existed, the warmth of the company wasn't what it used to be. Mari had obsessed over the technology the company had produced year after year when she was younger, trying desperately to recreate the inventions with cheaper, more accessible parts and tools. For the most part she's been successful, able to sell some of her inventions to smaller businesses and even earning royalties on some of them.  
  
He smiled fondly, remembering how much she admired the company's young owner, Viktor Nikiforov. The man had been the brain behind a few of the inventions his company released, causing Mari to swoon over his mind, even having some posters of him in her room. The infatuation of her youth left her when they moved to this not-so-little town. However, she was nonetheless excited when the company had decided to relocate its Headquarters to the sleepy little city.  
  
He came back to his senses when he heard high pitch laughter, he looked to the sidewalk and saw children playing hopscotch, colored chalked carelessly abandoned to the side. A little girl in pigtails tried to complete the impressive length of the hopscotch board but fell after three squares, a look of determination still on her face. A smile crept on Yuuri’s lips as he jumped in, leaving the younger kids in awe of his grace and flexibility as he practically danced the length of the hop scotch board. The little girl’s mouth was gaping at him in awe, instantly prompting her to try again, this time imitating the dark haired man’s moves.   
  
The end of the chalk outline was right at the entrance of the baker's shop. He walked in, vaguely aware that some of its patrons had gawked at him from the window.  
  
"Good morning, Yuuri!" The baker called at him from behind the counter.  
  
"Good morning, Celestino," Yuuri, responded, walking to the counter as the baker pulled out a box from behind the counter. "How's business been this morning?"  
  
"Busy as ever," he said with pride, subconsciously taking Yuuri's coffees and placing them in the box.  
  
"You don't have to do that for me, Celestino," Yuuri stated, slightly blushing as the man filled a bag with pastries and placed them on top of the coffees.  
  
"I don't _have_ to Yuuri, but I _want_ to," Celestino replied, a slight edge of exasperation in his voice. "And before we do this song and dance: No, I will not accept your money. Yes, you can put it in the tip jar so my workers have something to be happy about. No, I will not argue on it further. Now, take these and head over to Art Castle, make those little girls' day like you always do, and remember what an incredible person you are, okay?"  
  
Celestino couldn't help but laugh at the deep shade of pink the young customer turned. "And don't forget to tell me how the baguettes turned out."  
  
Yuuri exhaled, glad for a change in subject. "Don't worry, I will! And Celestino…?"  
  
The baker looked up, curiously looking at the blushing man who lifted the box off the counter.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Celestino smiled softly. "Of course, Yuuri."  
  
_Some days I wanna grab his shoulders and shake him until he sees reason_ , Celestino thought as Yuuri backed out of the door, holding it open with his back to let a mother and her kids walk in. _Other days I'm grateful for his obliviousness. If he really knew how much everyone admired him, he'd probably run away and hide._  
  
Yuuri was almost done with his morning routine. He was at his final and favorite stop. He barely pushed open the door with his back when he was assaulted by three small bodies trying to hug him at once.  
  
"Uncle Yuuri!" Three high pitches sang in unison. Yuuri laugh as he spun around, the triplets giggling as they hung onto him for support.  
  
"Girls, get off him before you all crash into the art."  
  
"Sorry, Mom!" The girls squealed as Yuuri shook them off, handing each of them a unique flower.  
  
"They're so pretty," Loop said, as her sisters inhaled the scent. They raced behind the store's counter to three different colored vases, each one filled with different flowers at various stages of wilting. The girls stood on their step stools as they added the new flower to their collection, excitement bubbling as Yuuri began to pass out the baked good he'd gotten a few minutes earlier.  
  
"Yuuri, you really do spoil us. You know that, right?" Yuuko beamed at him as she accepted the coffee he handed to her, causing Yuuri to blush softly at her words.  
  
"It's nothing, really," he mumbled, not looking in her eyes but failing to hide the small smile that danced on his lips.  
  
Yuuko had been the first person in town to welcome Yuuri without any judgment. She and her husband ran an antique and art shop, an odd combination that oddly worked out well. Most of the antiques were works of arts: sculptures and paintings decorating the entire space of the small shop. Yuuri's eyes traveled to the wall behind the counter where he saw something that made him turn red.  
  
Yuuko followed his gaze, smiling when he saw what he was staring at. "Someone bought it yesterday," she said slowly, carefully looking at his expression. "It was barely hanging up for an hour before a young woman came in and claimed her boss needed to have it for his house."  
  
The painting was of the city from the view of Yuuri's front yard. It was done well enough that one only had to glance at the landscape to recognize it. The city was painted in luscious warm undertones, making it appear inviting and friendly. Then, dead in the center, rearing its ugly head above the rest of the city-  
  
"You really hate that building, don't you?" A deep voice boomed behind Yuuri, causing him to snap out of his thoughts.  
  
Takeshi Nishigori was a large man, once the very sight of the man was enough to intimidate Yuuri beyond reason. Now, however, he felt relaxed as Takeshi gripped his shoulder, wincing more out of surprise than anything.  
  
"I can't help it," Yuuri muttered, gazing back to the painting. Nikiforov Tower had been painted as a large, black dragon, observing the surrounding city with silver eyes. "It's such an eyesore, the black and silver mirror walls don't blend in with the rest of the area. Not to mention the unnecessarily large size of it. I know other buildings almost as big are going up soon but _still_..."  
  
Yuuko couldn't help but smile as her husband preceded to rub Yuuri's shoulder, getting the tension to leave his body.  
  
Yuuri had wandered into their store one day, looking for art supplies when he was smitten by the art in the shop. The triplets were toddlers and between them and running the shop, Yuuko and Takeshi were at their wits end. Then Yuuri showed up, out of the blue and offered to not only work for them part time but also babysit. The part time job lasted only a summer but Yuuri never failed to stop by any chance he got, which was every day.  
  
"You better get used to it, Yuuri," Yuuko sipped her coffee as the young man turned around and offered her husband a coffee of his own. "It's not as if you can go changing the building."  
  
Yuuko saw something flash in Yuuri's eyes, something that didn't go unnoticed by her husband. They glanced at each other, her husband shrugging as he took a bite of his pastry. Yuuri stood there, lost in his own world, when a smile crept on his face.  
  
"No, I suppose I can't, can't I?" Yuuri grimaced at the clocked as it chimmed. "It can't be that late, is it?"  
  
"No, it's about 15 minutes ahead," Yuuko huffed. "I can't figure out why it won't stay on the correct time."  
  
"I'll see if Mari can come take a look at it, but for now I gotta go." Yuuri picked up the coffee tray with the two remaining drinks in it and the last few pieces of pastries in the bag.  
  
"If you have any more art pieces, bring them in!" Axel cried as she ran around the counter to grab Yuuri's leg.  
  
"Your work is so good we can't keep them in stock!" Loop sang as she joined her sister on the other leg.  
  
"Yeah! Your online requests just keep coming in," Lutz chimed in as she grabbed Yuuri around the middle.  
  
Yuuri felt confusion contort his face. He looked up at the triplets' suddenly nervous looking parents. Takeshi chugging his coffee while Yuuko crammed her entire pastry into her mouth.  
  
"Online requests?" The girls, sensing the tension squeaked a quick 'Bye!' before running to the back.  
  
Takeshi was the first to recover.  
  
"Don't be mad.” Yuuri narrowed his eyes, causing the much larger man to fidget. “I'm _really_ sorry we didn't say anything earlier, but the girls... _might_ have started an online store featuring your artwork, and it _might_ just be getting demands for more of your art."  
  
Yuuri felt his stomach hallow as he tried to process what he was hearing. He supposed he should be happy that people wanted look at his work, Hell, that they were willing to pay for it. Instead, the thought of unknown eyes looking upon his intimate work, judging it, criticizing it, made his chest tighten.  
  
"The girls also made you an Instagram account that may have 10,000 followers and counting," Yuuko rushed out, relief as the secret she'd been holding in flooded into the open, only to be quickly replaced by concern for the pale, shaking man in front of her. "Yuuri, we're so sorry! We just found out last night what the girls had done and we wanted to tell you in person." When Yuuri didn't respond she and Takeshi exchanged nervous looks. "Yuuri....?" She said uncertainly, gently reaching out and touching his arm. The man violently jerked out of her grip, hugging himself. Yuuko fought the sting of rejection rising in her. It had been the such a long time since Yuuri panicked at their touches.  
  
"It's-it's-I'm....fine," Yuuri finally spoke, gripping himself tighter. "I c-can't think about this right now. I have to f-focus on today. I'll-I'll see you later." He practically threw himself out the door, just in time to catch the city bus that pulled up to the curb. He stood in the center of the bus closest to the door, willing himself to take deep breaths as people got on and off the bus. Wincing whenever anyone bumped into him, he was grateful when his stop arrived, jumping out of the bus and running to the side and down the steps of a modest sized building.  
  
************  
  
"Are you ready to tell me what happened?" Phichit asked as he rubbed Yuuri's back.  
  
Yuuri had ran into their shared office, tossing their usual coffees and baked goods onto the table before sprinting to the bathroom. Phichit found him dry heaving into the toilet, and had spent the last several minutes trying to talk his friend down from a full fledge panic attack. Now, Yuuri shifted from his knees into a sitting position, head leaning back against the cool wall.  
  
Phichit and Yuuri worked in a glorified basement. They had specifically requested the space when they were hired, allowing Yuuri to have the distance from the alarming number of people in the building while still feeling connected to his best friend. Yuuri couldn't help but feel guilty at times for keeping his friend down in this dungeon with him, but Phichit would just shrug and remind him that he needed the space too, so as to not get distracted by everyone around him all the time. Staying focused on one thing wasn't his strong suit, which is a dangerous trait to have in their line of work.  
  
Yuuri took a deep breath as he looked up at his friend. A pang of guilt ran threw him as he saw concern in the Thai man's eyes. He tried to smile to reassure his friend but his smile felt so phony even to himself that it made the concern worse.  
  
"It's silly really...” Yuuri’s voice was hoarse from the dry heaving. “What's worse is that I _know_ it's silly but I can't help the way I feel...."  
  
"If it really bothers you then you need to talk about it," the Thai man reassured him, placing a hang on his best friend's knee. He felt Yuuri tense then immediately relax under his touch. He frowned, knowing something must really be bugging him if he regressed back into his fear of being touched.  
  
Yuuri looked down at his hands. "I found out the Nishigori triplets made an Instagram account for my art, along with a website to sell it." Yuuri waited for his best friend to yell in surprised, to be shocked as Yuuri had been. When he was met with silence, however, he looked up, frowning at Phichit's expression. "You _knew_!"  
  
"I, uh, _might_ have helped them with the pictures for your account."  
  
"You WHAT?!"  
  
"I'm sorry!" Phichit raised his hands up in surrender, a nervous smile on his face. "But they really wanted to make one, and God knows I've been telling you for a long time to make an art account, so I took it as a sign and sent them all the pictures of you and your work that I had. Please don't hate me," he added with a nervous chuckle.  
  
Yuuri groaned and slid down the wall until he was flat at the floor, eyes trained on the ceiling.  
  
"If it makes you feel better, you're at 15,000 followers."  
  
"Why would that make me feel any better?" Yuuri scoffed, annoyance taking over his anxiety.  
  
"Because it means you're _good_ , Yuuri. I've told you that ever since we were roommates. I'd watch you take a blank piece of nothing and making something remarkable out of it. This is proof that what me and everyone else has been saying about you is true. You could quit your day job and become an artist."  
  
Yuuri could hear the hope and happiness in Phichit's voice, and for a second he let himself imagine a life as an artist. Traveling to world to be inspired to create more art. He turned his head to look at his friend. "You also told me to drop out of college to be a Ballet dancer."  
  
"It's not my fault you were there on a dance scholarship and had offers from across the globe to perform."  
  
"You also told me I should become a musician when I got that job playing piano at that bar."  
  
"Hey, that bar was garbage. Everyone knew the only reason it was packed every weekend was because of your playing."  
  
Yuuri sat up and stared at his friend, who returned his gaze. Phichit had always believed in Yuuri's capabilities, more so than Yuuri ever had. He loved art, dance and music but he never saw himself surviving off of those passions alone. He saw himself doing and being more, which was something Phichit always understood but his friend nevertheless encouraged him to exercise his hobbies every chance he got.  
  
Yuuri smiled for real this time as Phichit stood up and helped Yuuri to his feet. Yuuri gave him a quick, but firm hug before walking out of their bathroom, feeling much better than he did running in.

Phichit stood there for a moment, shock on his face at his friend’s rare action. He hugged himself, still feeling the warmth where Yuuri’s body had just been a moment before. _What other surprises do you have in store for us, Yuuri?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story is basically Belle. I liked the thought of Mari being the inventor cus she's a badass. 
> 
> I'm basing Yuuri's apprehension to being touched off my own experiences. It's something I work on daily to be more comfortable with so you'll probably see Yuuri dealing with that issue to some degree.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Making Moments Last Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is faced with challenges at work and finds a surprise waiting for him at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to update. I didn't have a chance to use my laptop for a week (which is how I do my final edit) and the ending for this chapter was completely different. I decided to chop the original ending and save it for a little later in the story, I'll let you know when! 
> 
> I'm going to try and update every week but I make no promises. When I do update it'll either be Wednesdays or Thursdays.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading! I hope you enjoy.

 

The morning progressed slowly. Yuuri and Phichit sat at their desks, going over case files and making notes here and there. Neither of them had to be in court that day, something Yuuri was grateful for. Considering how his morning went he didn't think he could handle being in a courtroom full of eyes staring at him. He suppressed a shudder at the thought and glanced at clock, the big hand a quarter away from reaching twelve with the little hand shy of ten.  
  
"You know what time it almost is?" Phichit smiled knowingly, watching his best friend let out a small groan and put his face to his desk.  
  
"Maybe today they won't come," Yuuri reasoned, voice muffled by the wooden desk. "Maybe they'll be assigned somewhere else."  
  
Phichit scoffed. "Yeah, right. Like your little one would allow himself to be separated from you. You're more likely to.....Marry Viktor Nikiforov."  
  
Yuuri laughed, his voice sending vibrations throughout the desk. Lifting his head, he grinned at his companion. "Could you imagine? Mari would have a heart attack. Either because of the offer in the first place or because I'd say 'no'."  
  
"You wouldn't marry him?" Phichit had a look of mild surprise on his face. Now it was Yuuri's turn to scoff.  
  
"What? And you would? Half your clients come with complaints about Nikiforov Industries; I figured your inner Tree Hugger would have a hard time saying 'yes' to the man whose company single handedly took a percentage of said trees out of existence."  
  
"Can't argue there," Phichit muttered, glaring at the files on his desk. "But seriously, would you at least sleep with him?"  
  
"Phichit!"  
  
"Come on! Fuck, Marry, Kill!"  
  
"Don't you have, you know? Actual work to be doing."  
  
"Come on! We'll have plenty of time for that when the little ones get here."  
  
Yuuri looked at the clock once more. "Fine, but I go first. Hmmm........Okay, I got it. Fuck, Marry, Kill: Lee, Viktor Nikiforov, and me."  
  
The Thai man's jaw fell open, his eyes as round as saucers. Yuuri could seldom surprise Phichit, but when he did he reveled in it.  
  
"Yuuri!"  
  
"Come on! You have to answer."  
  
"Fine.....Well, obviously, I'd marry you." Phichit kissed the inside of his hand and threw it in an arc away from him, an exaggerated version of 'blowing a kiss'. Yuuri automatically repeated the action with his own hand.  
  
"Naturally."  
  
"Hands down I'd fuck Viktor Nikiforov, and anyone who says any different is a liar."  
  
"Good grief, Phichit, not everyone is like you."  
  
"Nope. Everyone is willing to admit the man is gorgeous as sin except for you." He reached over and poked his friend in the cheek, glad that Yuuri playfully smacked his hand away with a begrudging smile.  
  
"I never said I didn't find him attractive. I just wouldn't want to be in his bed of lies."  
  
"Well, politics aside I'd climb him like a tree. And without a doubt I'd kill Lee." That got a hearty laugh from his friend.  
  
"I figured as much. Not that I can blame you."  
  
"Now it's my turn!" Phichit grinned widely as he tapped a finger to his chin, mocking being in deep thought. Yuuri was already blushing just thinking about who Phichit would choose. "Okay, Fuck, Marry, Kill: Viktor Nikiforov," he ignored his best friend's exaggerated eye roll, "Yang, and Minami!"  
  
Yuuri was certain he resembled a tomato at the list Phichit presented him. "Oh, come on, Phichit! I made your list easy!"  
  
"And yours isn't?"  
  
This made Yuuri flush harder. "I mean....okay....but....Minami's just a kid! I can't believe you included him-"  
  
Just then the door to their office burst open, the door banging against the wall with such a force it sounded like a gun shot. Phichit jerked in his desk while Yuuri let out a yelp and fell out of his seat.  
  
"Sorry we're late, Boss!" A worried yet excited voice exclaimed, running over to Yuuri, who was still trying to process what happened. "I'm so sorry! We got caught up in the lobby! There's a lot of commotion going on, then Mr. Lee started giving us orders and we were trying to explain we needed to come here first and-" the young blonde and red-haired man didn't notice the older man tense as he pulled him off the floor by his wrists. He kept talking until he finally noticed Yuuri's stressed expression. "I'm sorry, Boss-"  
  
"It's...fine...Minami. I u-understand," Yuuri let out a shaky breath and tried to give the young intern, who looked ready to cry, what he thought was a reassuring smile. He could see Phichit giving him a look of concern out of the corner of his eye. "You were barely a minute late and with good reason, right?" He looked up at the other two interns who nodded in agreement.  
  
Leo de Iglesias, Guang-Hong Ji, and Kenjirou Minami were third year law students, just finishing up their last semester before becoming full time summer interns the summer before they graduate.  
  
"What's with all the commotion in the lobby that you mention?" Phichit asked, curious as to what could possibly have kept Yuuri's biggest fan (after Phichit, of course) a mere minute from his free labor.  
  
Leo shook his head. "Apparently, the Stalburn court date has been moved up to next week, so now everyone in the building is freaking out."  
  
"Yeah," Guang Hong chimed in softly, a faint blush upon his face. "Everyone is in losing their minds. Lee wouldn't stop reprimanding us until Ms. Yang stepped in."  
  
Yuuri cursed softly in Japanese, causing his intern to gasp as the others looked at him curiously. "I told Lee to convince his clients to give their union workers a better compromise than the load of bull he's trying to force on them." Yuuri pinched the bridge if his nose. "You don't always have to go to court to win a case. Sometimes compromise is the best way for everyone to win and lose."  
  
"Remember that, kids!" Phichit exclaimed proudly as Minami screeched and took out a handbook to write the advice down. "Then again, sometimes the best things in life are worth fighting for."  
  
Yuuri nodded in agreement, aware they weren't talking about the case anymore. "You're absolutely right, Phichit."  
  
Just then the door burst opened for a second time, causing everyone to jump, but none higher than Minami, who practically jumped into Yuuri's arms.  
  
"Sorry, Boss!"  
  
"It's....just..Yuuri, Minami. You don't have to call me 'Boss'..." Yuuri gasped as he tried to gently lower Minami back to the ground, accidentally dropping him instead. The young intern eagerly nodded from his place on the floor but they both knew that wasn't going to change a thing.  
  
"He's quite right, youngster. Besides, _I'm_ the one who's your boss." A calm, confident voice rang out. Eight eyes flicked towards the doorframe, causing the interns to unconsciously take a step behind their mentors.  
  
"R-right. You're absolutely right, Ms. Yang!" Minami, stammered, red creeping up his neck.  
  
"My name _is_ on the building, after all."  
  
"Along with two other names," Phichit chided, crossing his arms. The interns held their breath as their eyes went, going back and forth between Phichit and Isabella Yang. The young woman looked shocked at the Thai man's brave words, her perfectly trimmed eyebrows shooting up into her black, impeccably styled, hair. As a genuine laugh escaped her, the interns exhaled.  
  
"Very true, Mr. Chulanont, but seeing as those other two names are retiring at the end of the quarter they hardly matter now." Her eyes slowly moved across the room before they settled on her favorite, chocolate eyes. "What _does_ matter is whose names will be in place next to mine. Don't you agree, Yuuri?"  
  
It was not lost on anyone in the room that Yuuri was the only one Isabella addressed by first name. Phichit expected his friend to cower under the partner's intense gaze, however, what he saw was Yuuri's eyes narrow slightly and his back straighten.  
  
"I suppose the names on the building do matter, _Ms._ Yang," Yuuri stressed the prefix as much as he could, "but a name hardly matters when a reputation is tarnished. If those union workers aren't given a fair deal by us and win in court, scratch that, even if they _don't_ win, no name can save us from being known as the law firm who let a corporation bully its workers into submission."  
  
If the interns were tense at Phichit's teasing words they were absolutely shaken by Yuuri's. They watched as Isabella stayed thoughtful for a moment, staring Yuuri directly in the eyes while she considered his words. She ended the staring contest after noticing the flower tucked in the beautiful man's breast pocket. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," she said softly, almost to herself. The interns gave each other puzzled looks as Yuuri looked at his flower.  
  
"This is daffodil," he said absentmindedly, gently stroking the petals. The action seemed to snap her back to reality.  
  
"Right. A daffodil by any other name, then." She turned her gaze to other dark haired man in the room. "In light of the recent developments regarding the Stalburn case, I'm going to need you, Mr. Chulanont, and your interns to head upstairs to Mr. Lee's floor. Yuuri, you'll help Lee draft a better proposal so we can settle this out of court. We don't need the media and public backlash from this and neither does our client. Mr. Chulanont, I'm going to need you to pull together all the files regarding the environmental impact Stalburn has had."  
  
Phichit gulped. "All of them?"  
  
"Yes. We're going to need it for good PR. Stalburn has been donating a considerable sum of its proceeds to multiple environmental charities; it'll come in handy if their character comes into question. Use these three interns to help you, I know it'll take some time," she smiled, almost apologetically. "If this wasn't such a big case I wouldn't pull you all away from your current work."  
  
Despite wanting to retain his composure, Yuuri felt his eyes soften and a sympathetic smile tug at his lips. "It's fine, Ms. Yang. We'll do our best, right guys?"  
  
"Right!" The three interns stated in unison, reminding Yuuri of three little girls he saw but a few hours ago.  
  
"Thank you, Yuuri," Isabella said with a wink, causing the young lawyer to blush. "You three," she gestured to the interns still gawking at the conversation, "Come with me. I'll show you where the boxes full of files are and where to put them so you can start helping Mr. Chulanont." The law students quickly nodded and followed her out the door, leaving Yuuri and Phichit alone once more.  
  
As soon as the door clicked shut, Phichit groaned and threw himself in his chair. "Come on, Yuuri! You couldn't flirt my way out of this! It's going to take _hours_ to pull out the donation records from this corporation."  
  
The pink on Yuuri's face deepened as he glared at Phichit, who lazily was spinning in his chair. "You _are_ the environmental lawyer here, Phichit. Sorry you have to do your job!"  
  
"Whatever. At least I don't have to confront Lee about his clients. I suppose I am lucky in the end." Yuuri exhaled as he rubbed his forehead, confused at the dry, colored flakes that came on his hand.  
  
"Please, _don't_ tell me I've had paint on my forehead the entire time our boss was talking to me."  
  
"Fine then, I won't tell you."  
  
"Phichit!"  
  
"Hey! It's not like she’d cared. You could come to work in a clown suit and she would still be smitten with you. " The lawyer gave a smug smirk. "Though I could think of a different suit she'd rather see you in." The Thai man ducked as Yuuri threw a rubber band ball at him, laughing wildly. "I know two of the categories you'd probably fall under in her version of Fuck, Marry, Kill."  
  
"Please, STOP." Phichit wouldn't stop laughing as he and Yuuri gathered their things to move upstairs. His laughter finally ceased as they waited for the elevator.  
  
"You still have to finish your list, by the way." Yuuri looked at him, confused. "Fuck, Marry, Kill."  
  
"Are you still on that?" He sighed, the doors binging open as they stepped into the shaft.  
  
"Yes! I told you mine! Fair is fair, you have to finish."  
  
"Okay, okay." Yuuri's breath caught in his throat as the doors shut, the unusual sensation pulling at his stomach as they went up. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply; Phichit wanted to reach over and console his friend, but he knew that'd be the worst thing he could do in this particular situation.  
  
"Will you be okay?" He asked tentatively. "You know, up there?"  
  
Yuuri kept his eyes shut but nodded at his friend's question. "I'll be okay. The sooner I can convince Lee to change the proposal the sooner I can get out of there."  
  
"Looks like you're going to be on the corporate floor forever then," Phichit replied as the elevator dinged, opening its doors to reveal the chaos that was unfolding within the modest sized building.  
  
*********  
  
Seung-Gil Lee was, in a word, stubborn. He was a brilliant corporate lawyer and he knew it. While this didn't exactly make him arrogant, it made it difficult for him to admit when he was wrong.  
  
Something Yuuri spent the last two hours trying to do.  
  
"Katsuki, I don't see what's wrong. My proposal is the best option for our clients, which is the whole point of our job."  
  
Yuuri let out a calming breath. He didn't care for confrontation on a person level. It's one thing to go to court to defend someone and another to confront with someone about themselves. Rolling up the sleeves of his Peter Pan-collared dress shirt, he looked Lee in the eye once more.  
  
"I don't understand what's so difficult here, Lee. Your proposal is great for your clients, no doubt, but a slap in the face to the union workers. You've given them the bare minimum when it comes to health care, worker's comp, time off-"  
  
"Because by indulging into their demands it makes the client look weak. What's keeping the union from coming back in a few months, demanding more? Give them an inch and they'll take a mile."  
  
"You don't have to give them the moon and the stars, just enough to let them lead decent lives as human beings." Yuuri was beyond frustrated at this point. He and Lee and been going back and forth, drafting and re-drafting compromise after compromise. "You need to convince your client that this is the best course of action. If we go to court the public backlash will be intense, it won't matter if we win the case or not, the damage will be irreversible. This way your client looks sympathetic and caring, causing good PR and keeping their business steady."  
  
"My client won't see it that way. It makes sense to keep the first proposal I drafted. This is my area of expertise, Katsuki. Maybe you can apply your _general_ area of expertise elsewhere."  
  
Yuuri felt his heart rate increase at the soft insult. "You didn't seem to have a problem with my _general_ area of expertise last week when you needed help on the Johansson case."  
  
"We both know your emphasis is on intellectual property, it'd be foolish of me not to take advantage of that."  
  
Nobody really knew Lee outside of work, mainly because all he ever did was work. However, Yuuri knew Lee well enough to recognize the odd, somewhat-compliment that was just given to him.  
  
He felt his face heat up ever so slightly as he looked out the window, the streets bursting back to life with the rush of lunch hour. They'd been pent up in Lee's corner office on the corporate floor, something most people would find stifling but in this instance it made Yuuri relax. Outside the door were tons of people stressed about the upcoming court date, growing steadily frustrated at one another over trivial things.  
  
"Katsuki, be reasonable. We both know Yang asked you to revise my proposal so she could have an example about how well we work together when we become partners."  
  
Yuuri turned his neck so fast he felt it pop. He gave Lee an incredulous look as he rubbed the sore spot. "What are you talking about?"  
  
The stoic man couldn't suppress an eye roll at the question. "Open your eyes, Katsuki. Our contracts are up for re-newel at the end of the quarter, two partner positions are open and we're the best lawyers in this building. Your _general_ knowledge of all kinds of law is actually useful in this scenario, not to mention my expertise in dealing with big clients. It makes sense."  
  
There was no doubt in Lee's cool, calculating voice. All Yuuri could do was stare into the Korean man's eyes before standing up, grabbing his blazer, and leaving.  
  
"Where are you going?" Lee asked, genuinely puzzled at the Japanese man's sudden actions. The door swung shut behind him as Yuuri surveyed the floor, unable to locate Phichit and the interns.  
  
Sighing, he sent his best friend a quick text saying he was going out for some air in case anybody needed him. Phichit asked if he was okay, which Yuuri reassured him he was, that working with Lee with simply exhausting. That enticed a laughing emoji from the Thai man and Yuuri walked towards exit.  
  
He ignored the elevator as he opted to walk down the six flights of stairs to the ground floor. He preferred steps to elevators but would often take the elevator as to not inconvenience Phichit. It wasn't until he was walking out of the lobby did he realized he had a series of apologetic texts from Yuuko.  
  
A pang of guilt shot through Yuuri. He'd almost completely forgotten the events of this morning with the workload he was suddenly given.  
  
**ME:**

 **It's okay, Yuuko, there's nothing to forgive. I honestly forgot about it until just now. If the girls love taking pictures of my art that much then they can keep the accounts up. I'm sorry for freaking out earlier.**  
  
Yuuko responded in record time.  
  
**YUUKO:**

 **Don’t apologize for being upset, you have every right to be. The girls will be so happy to hear that they can keep taking pictures. <3**  
  
Yuuri smiled as he quickly typed out a reply.  


**ME:**

**Thanks, Yuuko. Tell the girls they can come over next week to take more pictures if they'd like.**  
  
Yuuko's excited response was enough to keep most of the dread he was feeling away. He knew once the time to let the triplets take the pictures actually came he'd be a wreck, but for now he'll just enjoy being outside and cross that bridge when he comes to it.  
  
The thought of the events from the entire day hit him all at once. He suddenly felt very tired. He thought about Phichit's words from earlier, how Isabella could be lenient towards Yuuri. Curious, he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message:  
  
**ME:**

 **I'm getting nowhere with Lee: We're doing nothing but talk in circles. Mind if I take an extended lunch?**  
  
Yuuri sent the message before he lost his nerve, anxiously staring at the three dots that appeared. He was slightly started to panic when a message appeared.  
  
**YANG:**

 **That's fine, take the rest of the day off if you want. There's nothing else for you to do at the moment if Lee won't budge. I'll talk to him.**  
  
Yuuri gaped at his phone in disbelief. It was absurd that leave work in the middle of the day when a major client's court date has been moved up short noticed. As if she could read his mind, Isabella sent another message:  
  
**YANG:**

 **Go home, I insist.**  
  
Yuuri stared uncertainly at his phone. Before replying a quick 'Okay, thanks.' He then texted Phichit, asking if he could take his stuff back to the office at the end of the day. When his friend asked why he left early he told him Isabella told him to go home. The next message was nothing but a series of winking emojis with a heart between a couple kissing, a bride and groom, and a headstone.  
  
*******  
  
The house was pleasantly cool as Yuuri opened the front door. The doorway lead into a modest sized sitting room with the kitchen to the left. There was a hallway at the other end of the sitting room, the first door to the left ajar. Yuuri could hear the sound of tools tinkering from below, his sister’s soft voice joining the noise that floated up the steps.  
  
He walked up to the basement door, listening intently. He could hear his sister’s singing softly to herself in Japanese, a story of love she use to sing to him as kids. He walked downstairs as quietly as possible, stopping halfway down to sit on the steps and press his face against the bars. He loved to watch his sister work. The way her eyes lit up while she solved a problem, the fluidity in her movements as her hands went flying through different tools and equipment. This was a side of Mari he wished he saw more, the side that was alive and passionate.  
  
When the song ended, Mari turned around to looked up to Yuuri, his hands holding on to the bars of the railing. Endless memories flooded back to Mari of her baby brother silently watching her as she created something. Whether it be a fighting robot or a metal flower made of scraps from her workshop floor, he always had a look of wonder that encouraged her to keep working. She would spend her dying days creating things if it meant Yuuri would have that look on his face.  
  
"Were you so excited to see my invention that you left work early?"  
  
Yuuri grinned sheepishly as he pulled himself up, walking down the rest of the steps to join his sister in her workroom. "Maybe. I've been dying to know what's been taking up so much of your time." He glanced over at the table, trying to decipher the clump of metal and wires he was looking at. Mari shook her head.  
  
"No, it's over here." She walked to another work table, miscellaneous items scattered on it. In the center, under a sheet, was something small. "Go ahead," Mari encouraged him. Yuuri grasped the sheet and gingerly lifted it off the small object. It was golden, shaped like an oval music box. Mari took it in her hands before walking over to a barren wall. She placed it on the floor, taking a step back. "Ready?" She asked, her eyes full of excitement.  
  
Yuuri nodded in anticipation, prompting his sister to press the top of the delicate looking instrument. A small section of the surface retracted into itself, a small black orb rising to the surface. An electric blue light warmed up in the center of the orb before pulsating through the black barrier.  
  
Yuuri felt his jaw drop and his eyes widen as he started at an eight-year old boy in a ballet outfit. He fell to his knees until he was eye level with the slightly pudgy boy, warm brown eyes staring back at him. He reached out to grasp the boy's shoulders, only to find his hand going through the boy's body.  
  
"A hologram," Yuuri muttered, beyond impressed. He glanced once more at his eight-year old self before standing up. "It's one of the most solid holograms I've ever seen."  
  
"Yes, it is," Mari acknowledged without hesitation. "But that's not what makes this so special." Pulling out a small remote, Mari aimed it at the golden device and pressed a button. Suddenly, the boy turned his head left and right before taking a deep breath and getting into a starting position. Yuuri watched himself perform a ballet recital he hadn't thought about in years.  
  
"This is incredible," he said softly, unwilling to tear his eyes away from himself. "It has an impossible range of motion."  
  
"Well, it _used_ to be an impossible range of motion," Mari corrected him. She too couldn't look away from her work, of the memory she brought back to life. "Think about it, Yuuri. We capture moments with our cameras but we can never truly relive them. Even this is a poor substitute for the real thing, but using this we can make moments last forever. This way stories never have to die." Yuuri turned his head to look at his sister. Mari rarely became sentimental about things, so it surprised him to hear her talk with nostalgia thick in her voice.  
  
"Can he talk?" Yuuri asked, suddenly curious. Mari shook her head.  
  
"My holograms do have the capability to speak but the voices still carry that creepy echo. I'm still working on solidifying the vocals."  
  
Eight-year old Yuuri finished his performance and froze at the final pose, Mari having paused the program. She hit another button, causing a bunch of flowers and shrubbery appeared, the wall suddenly looking out into a meadow with an orange, setting sky. If Yuuri didn't know there was a wall right there he would have thought the room opened up to the outside.  
  
The more he studied the imagine the more he became wonderfully confused. He crouched down amongst the hologram, trying to get a better look. The images were definitely of the flowers outside their house but they didn't look as believable as the imagine of himself had. In fact, the only way he could describe the texture of the imagine was-  
  
"Brush strokes," he croaked out, standing up to watch his sister nod.  
  
"I hope you don't mind, but I uploaded one of your paintings into the program. I thought this was cool because it brings your art to life."  
  
Yuuri felt his eyes sting. He quickly looked away, wiping the tears before they could fall. Mari had always encouraged Yuuri's art, no matter what form his artwork took place in. This was another form of encouragement that was in a way only Mari could do.  
  
"It's breathtaking, Mari," Yuuri smiled at his sister. He could see the faintest of pink appear on her cheeks, if he hadn't studied her face his entire life he never would've noticed it.  
  
"Thank you, Yuuri." She hesitated for a moment, torn about something. "There's one more program I have on here."  
  
She pressed a button on the remote and suddenly, the backdrop was gone to reveal two people. The man and woman stood with their arms around each other, gazing into each other's eyes adoringly. Mari waved her hand, causing their eyes to break apart and look up at her and Yuuri, big smiles breaking across their faces.  
  
Yuuri felt his breath catch in his throat, forgetting how to breath. Mari watched her brother closely, nervous as he reached out to caress the face of the woman, a face they shared. Right on cue the hologram leaned into the non-existing touch, her eyes never leaving Yuuri's.  
  
"The holograms turned into somewhat of an AI program," Mari whispered softly. Yuuri was now running a hand over the cheek of the man, enticing a grin from him. "This program is an example of that. Trying to stimulate them visually or physically will get their attention. I'm still working on potentially adding audio to that list but that's where it gets tricky."  
  
Yuuri stepped back and the couple's gaze automatically went back to each other, as if he never existed. He hadn't realized he'd been crying until his Mari took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He didn't reject the contact in any way. Instead, he and his sister held hands as they stared into the faces of their late parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for killing the Katsuki parents. If you were able to figure out that Mari was Maurice then it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise that she's Yuuri's only living blood relative. 
> 
> Also the elevator thing is a very real fear a good friend of mine has. I sometimes get anxious in elevators too but they have it worse than me. 
> 
> I'm trying hard to have women represented as different business owners/overall badass in this AU which is why I have Mari as a brilliant inventor, Isabella Yang as the top partner in a law firm, and Mrs. Altin as a business owner as well as Yuuko with her business partner being her husband. Sara is also representing for all the people who work thankless service jobs while simultaneously going to school and Mila is a teacher because teacher's are the unsung heroes of the community.

**Author's Note:**

> lyubov moya - Russian for "my love", at least according to the internet. Let me know of any inaccuracies!


End file.
